Wonky: A Survival Guide for Following Jesus When You Hate the Church

By Justin Bowers and J. Kevin Butcher

"It's not Jesus I can't stand, it's the church."

Ask anyone today for their perspective on Christianity and chances are you'll hear a statement like this.  The hurt caused by the Church is epidemic.  But what about Jesus?  For those who haven't given up on following Him, is there a way to survive the hurt caused

• Language: English
• Publisher: In Between Trees
• Release date: Nov 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737394112

Book preview

Foreword

Renowned continental theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar once wrote, Lovers are the ones who know most about God; the theologian must listen to them.[1] This is why I listen to Justin Bowers and why I’m convinced you need to read this book. Justin is a lover. He doesn’t just believe in Jesus Christ, he loves him, as he is loved by him. And because of his deep love relationship with Jesus, Justin loves his family, his neighbors, the brothers and sisters he shepherds at New Community – and even his enemies. Not perfectly, of course, but make no mistake – the center of Justin’s life is the deep love of Jesus Christ.

Not surprisingly, then, Justin’s first book is about love, written especially to those of us who have not been loved well by the church. In fact, we’ve been deeply hurt. Because we’ve been judged. Gossiped about. Marginalized. Because her members have often co-opted Jesus for their political views, to excuse a lack of intentionality about fighting for justice, to justify both covert and overt racism, or to ignore hurtful behavior patterns (read sin). The truth is, Jesus calls us to radically give our lives away to others in deep relationship – in the church. But ironically, it’s often the church that is the most self-absorbed, unloving, hurtful community on the planet.

As for a healing pathway forward – you’ll find no cliches or easy answers here. In Wonky, Justin first acknowledges our body of Christ pain with love and compassion, authentically sharing – more than once – I am so, truly, sorry for the deep wounds that have driven his readers away from church. He candidly shares his own church hurt while also humbly, perhaps as proxy for other pastors, owning his culpability in hurting some he has pastored. Justin’s obvious empathy for all who are bleeding out from church misbehavior gently invites us to position ourselves for the process of forgiveness and return. In other words, healing.

But Justin spends most of his time calling out specific areas of church dysfunction that create space for church wound – the undue pressure on pastors to be more than they can humanly be, pervasive relational division, the politicizing of Jesus, ignoring the gospel’s call to racial justice, overlooking sin, the self-centered abuse of freedom – and more. Readers will find themselves nodding their heads at page after page of all-too-familiar mess and then they’ll nod even more vigorously as Justin unpacks the instructive story of the early church (The Acts of the Apostles) and the wisdom of Paul (especially from I Corinthians) about the powerful, redemptive, healing force the church could be, must be, if our broken world is to have any hope of renewal.

Then, throughout Wonky, Justin appropriately provides hopeful hints about how to fight back against the powers of darkness disemboweling Christ’s church. He calls them church survival tips and they vary from the obviously core your relationship with Jesus must be stronger than your relationship with the church to the very pragmatic for any possibility of unity in the church, we must relinquish our right to be right. But even with Justin’s pithy, wise, and helpful invitations to do church differently, I found myself, by the end, looking for more.

Not surprisingly, Justin delivers. In the book’s final pages, quoting Paul’s words to the finger-pointing Corinthians, Justin calls us to first examine ourselves (I Corinthians 11:28), to stop focusing on the baggage of others in order to deal with our own junk as a precursor to slowly, courageously engaging Christ’s church again. And the bottom line? In that process of re-engagement, of healing both ourselves and the church, Justin reminds us of the life-or-death priority of Paul’s most excellent way – the powerful love of Jesus Christ. (I Corinthians 13) It was Christ’s powerful love that defeated the powers of darkness at the cross, and his love in and through each of us is the only way the broken church of Jesus can come to life again. In fact, Justin implies, unless we move beyond simply believing in Jesus to falling in love with him – we’ll never come back to Christ’s wounded church at all. The pain of church hurt will simply be…too much. Jesus’ deep love, a love that covers a multitude of sins, really is the only way.

Again, why does this really matter? Because the church of Jesus Christ – as wonky, wounded and wounding as it can often be – is still the salt of the earth…the light of the world (Matthew 5:13-16) There’s no plan B for the hope and healing of all that is broken on planet earth, especially the broken hearts and lives of God’s sons and daughters, which includes even those who don’t yet know there is a God who loves them! They must see his healing love in us, in his church. Again, there is no other way.

Thus, the reason Justin writes with such passion. More importantly, despite being severely wounded himself, this is why Justin continues, day after day, to bring his wounded self to Jesus’ wonky, broken church. This isn’t the place for my own story, but trust me, my wife, three daughters and I have also been deeply hurt by the church. In 35 years of pastoral ministry, I, too, like Justin, have walked away in my mind dozens of times and have been tempted more than once to walk away – for good. But…we stay. Not because we’re pious heroes – but because we know that if the broken world around us is to have any hope, we must learn to love Christ’s church over and over again. In and through the pain. All the way home.

So, with compassion and empathy for your journey of church wound, I conclude my remarks, borrowing Justin’s own concluding words: Don’t ever give up. If the church has broken your heart, may you find love for her again. Because, my precious sister and brother, there really is…no other way.

[1] Love Alone Is Credible, Hans urs Von Balthasar, Ignatius Press, 2004, p. 12.

J. KEVIN BUTCHER

Founder, Rooted Ministries (rootedministries.co)

Author, Choose and Choose Again and Free

Part One

Wonkified

I’ve got a golden ticket!

What a moment. Do you remember it?

The poor little urchin Charlie Bucket walking despondently down the street in London, having spent his last dollar on a candy bar in hopes of getting the remaining golden ticket that would grant him access to the mesmerizing world of the famous chocolatier Willy Wonka. In his sadness he glances down into a gutter to find a chocolate bar staring back at him. But not just any chocolate bar—no, a Wonka Bar!  And as Charlie peels back the label to find the magic glint of the gold foil hidden within the wrapper, so his sadness peels away. In that moment, Charlie Bucket’s  world is forever changed. He will be granted access to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I love that movie. Not the Tim Burton remake with Johnny Depp and the weird squirrels. I love the Gene Wilder, musical extravaganza, creepy boat-ride included original. As a kid, I watched  this film on VHS so many times I literally wore the tape out. . I loved how each of the rebellious, spoiled, gluttonous, or greedy young children faced the consequences of their own vices. And I loved the magic of what was behind the old factory doors of that mysterious chocolate factory. But I loved one scene more than any other.

It’s early in the movie. In fact, it’s right after Charlie finds his golden ticket. Each of the five winning children with their golden tickets are gathered outside the factory. They are surrounded by ravenous reporters and envious onlookers, security and admirers. They’re standing, waiting, wondering if they’ll truly meet the magical Willy Wonka of whom they’ve heard so many rumors.

Suddenly, the doors of the factory swing wide and there he is—Willy Wonka (played by the whimsical Gene Wilder), cloaked in that velvety purple jacket and distinctive top-hat. He looks so fragile, walking slowly, hobbling with a cane as he makes his way down the red carpet toward the children. Just when you think he can’t move any slower, he stops in his tracks, cane standing on its own, and falls forward tumbling into a nimble roll and springing upward with nothing but a smile and arms held wide to welcome the children to the joyful pure-imagination world of his chocolate factory. I love that scene.

I remember watching it for the first time and recognizing how quickly my feelings changed about Mr. Willy Wonka. As he walks the carpet ever so slowly, I remember a bit of fear, some curiosity, and a good deal of confusion as to how this decrepit man could make such wonderfully known chocolate. But then, as he tumbled forward looking like he was about to make his final fall and suddenly rolled into a joyous host, my feelings shifted. Something changed. This journey had just become magical, and I was along for the ride.

When he was asked about this particular scene, Gene Wilder said:  When I make my first entrance, I'd like to come out of the door carrying a cane and then walk toward the crowd with a limp. After the crowd sees Willy Wonka is a cripple, they all whisper to themselves and become deathly quiet. As I walk toward them, my cane sinks into one of the cobblestones I'm walking on and stands straight up, by itself; but I keep on walking until I realize that I no longer have my cane. I start to fall forward and just before I hit the ground, I do a beautiful forward somersault and bounce back up, to great applause. The scene was important to him, he said, because from that time on, no one will know if I'm lying or telling the truth.

Wonka. Or Wonky?

Some of you are holding this book and I just used a word that nails exactly how you feel about the Church, and maybe about Christians in general. Some of you were given this book by a Christian who is well-intentioned but still a little strange from your perspective and this word perfectly describes what you feel about him or her or the church they attend. You don’t have a problem with Jesus necessarily. It’s the people that claim to follow him that you don’t understand. Or can’t stand. They’re wonky.

I’ve been a pastor now for almost twenty years. I’ve worked in five different churches in three different states, and in every one of those places I have had meetings or moments where I found myself thinking, Is there a good word to describe the chaos that is the church? Yes, there is, and it’s wonky.

I know. Kind of strange. Kind of funny. But apt.

Whether it was handling a conflict with someone who demanded I have the church building open for them earlier on Sundays because they gave the money that paid the bills in that holy building, or the people I thought hated me who suddenly became my best friends the day I announced my family and I were leaving the church, or the roller coaster of those transformed by the work of Jesus who quit coming to church the next week because life is too busy… the word wonky is a perfect fit.

Wonka. Wonky. One letter difference. I don’t know if that was intentional by Roald Dahl, the author of the Willy Wonka stories for children, but it definitely could have been. Dahl was sorta, well, wonky himself. But I love the word wonky simply because it says what it feels. If you look up a definition for the word, it’s simple: crooked; off-center; askew.  Or, not functioning correctly; faulty.

When Willy Wonka walks out that red carpet so frail and decrepit before the second act of the original film, and then tumbles forward into the authenticity of his character, it’s wonky. There’s no other way to see him. Our view of him and of the entire film changes in that moment. Things get a little shaky. Our perspective changes. Suddenly, we’re on our toes and wondering what’s coming next – a little girl blowing up into a blueberry, a spoiled brat funneled into a trash compactor and facing incineration, a gluttonous boy sucked through a chocolate pipe, and a TV-addict loudmouth shrunken by his own obsession. Nothing is functioning correctly. Everything is off-center. The magical joy that came with the golden ticket is replaced by an unsteadiness that demands our